


Red optics

by awessome1



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 16:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16895949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awessome1/pseuds/awessome1
Summary: It's G1 canon that red optics are a sign of starvation.





	Red optics

All of them. Red optics hidden behind red visors. Still. Years into peacetime. They all still had bright crimson optics. A sure sign of starvation if he’d ever seen one. If Brawl hadn’t come to him complaining about slag in his optic he’d never have even knew that the whole gestalt was starving. 

Save Swindle, who’s royal purple optics are determinedly a sign of a full tank, more so than even his. And the greedy fragger hadn’t even bothered to share his extra rations with his team. When First Aid gets his hands on him... he’s not entirely sure what he’s going to do but something painful... maybe.

For now though he had four starving mechs sitting in his living room waiting impatiently for him to let them leave. 

“Can we leave already?” Blast Off asks for what must the fiftieth time now. He’s fidgety and bored and tired of sitting on this “crummy autobot couch”.

“Soon,” First Aid says, pulling multiple cubes of medical grade energon out of his subspace. He passes two to each of the Combaticons sitting before him. “You’re starving. You can leave once you finish these.”

Predictably, as soon as he’d finished speaking he’d felt the stiff and annoyed energy field of all four mechs, apparently annoyed at being made to take care of themselves. 

“We don’t need your charity, Autobot.” Onslaught spits, affronted by this “stranger” trying to decide what’s best for him and his team. The rest grunt and hum in agreement. 

First Aid turns toward Onslaught, his visor glinting sharply at the large truck. His voice is just as sharp and much harsher when he threatens, “Drink the cubes or I’ll force the energon into your tanks the old fashioned way.”

Brawl pops his cube first, with Vortex a nanosecond behind, the threat(however empty) having worked on them. Blast Off huffs before popping his first cube open and tossing it back, pouting where his mask had retracted. Onslaughts visor narrows into a glare at the young medic but after a pitifully short standoff, he retracts his battle mask and downs his cubes.

**Author's Note:**

> trinarysuns on tumblr made [this post](https://trinarysuns.tumblr.com/post/178269570720/just-sitting-here-thinking-about-the-implications) and I stole it to write this


End file.
